The Fated One
by Mornen
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Amras got that title? Total crack! Written with Galad Estel.


_Quenya:_

Mother: Amme

Father: Atto [informal]

_Names:_

Fëanor – Fëanáro

Amrod – Pityo

Amras – Telvo

Curufin – Curufinwë, Atarinke(meaning: "little father")

* * *

'Atto. Atto! Attoattoattoattoa-TTO!' Pityo crawled across the floor towards his Fëanáro.

'Atto! Atto! A-a-a-a-a-TTOOO!' Telvo crawled after him.

The Ambarussa stopped at their father's feet and smiled up at him. 'Atto! A-tto-tto-tto!' they said together before descending into a fit of giggles.

Fëanáro smiled down at his youngest sons. 'Are you learning to talk?' he asked proudly.

'AAAATTOOO!' The boys chortled together.

'You are wearning how to tawk aren't you?' The mighty Fëanáro cooed. 'Yesh, you are. Who's wearning how to tawlk? You are. You are!' He got down on his hands and knees to rub noses with the boys.

'Atto!' They gigged some more.

'You jwust have to wemember that it's 'Þ' not 's,' don't you?' He patted their little red heads. 'Yesh, you do. Yesh, you do!'

'Father, stop being embarrassing,' Curufinwë said from the sofa where he was sitting trying to look dignified but (as he was still a mirror of his father) failing miserably at. Despite his attempts at remaining proud, his nose was crinkling into overly-affectionate displays of love.

'I cwan bwe embwarraswing when I want to bwe,' Fëanáro said, still petting the twins. He turned sharply on his favourite son. 'You would do best to remember that, Curufinwë.' He turned back to the boys. 'Yesh, he should. Shouldn't he? Who ishn't bein' a gwood wittle bwoy? It's Curufinwë, ishn't it? Yesh, it is. Yesh, it is!'

Curufinwë sighed and got up. 'Who's being impwossible? You are father. You are!' He seethed. 'You should have never named me Atarinke! This will be the death of me, wont' it? Yesh, it will. Yesh, it…Ugh!' The boy strangled his own words and fled up the stairs.

His little brothers looked after him. 'Atto?' Pityo asked.

'Curvo,' Fëanáro said and settled back in his chair with his Craftsman magazine.

'Atto,' the boys said to each other and giggled. 'Atto. Atto. Atto. Atto. ATTO!'

'Ooooh, make them stop.'

Fëanáro glanced up to see his wife standing in the doorway. 'They're learning to talk,' he said. 'Isn't it cute?'

'Cute? Cute?' Nerdanel simmered with anger. 'You call that _cute_?'

'Atto,' the Ambarussa said and crawled happily towards her.

'That's all they ever say. Day in and day out. Atto. Atto. Atto. _Atto_! Never "Amme." Why can't they say "Amme?" Seven sons, and not ONE of them says "Amme!" Ooooo-oooh, it's enough to drive me mad.' She shook her fists in front of her.

Telvo tugged at her skirt. 'Atto?' he asked adorably.

'Amme,' Nerdanel said.

Pityo gave her puppy eyes. 'Atto?'

'_Aaaa-ME!_'

The Ambarussa looked at each other in confusion. 'Atto.'

'Fëanáro, do something about it!' Nerdanel snapped.

'I don't know what I can do,' Fëanáro replied, dourly turning a page of the magazine. 'I think it's adorable.'

'Oh, just you wait,' Nerdanel said. 'I'm going to make a statue of you and put it in the middle of Tirion! A NAKED statue!' She shook her finger at him.

'Atto!' Pityo cried happily and clung to her legs.

'No, it's Amme. Say it: Amme. _Amme._'

'Atto,' Pityo said. He squirmed against her adorably.

'It's Amme,' Nerdanel said, close to tears. 'Can't you say it just once? Amme.'

'Atto,' Pityo repeated. 'Atto. Atto. Atto. Aaa-TTO!'

Nerdanel brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. 'I give up,' she said. 'I just give up.' She started to walk away.

'Amme?' Telvo said softly. He crawled after her. 'Amme?'

Nerdanel froze and looked down at her youngest son.

'Atto. Atto. ATTO!' Pityo shrieked.

'Amme.' Telvo gurgled up at her.

Nerdanel scooped him up. 'What did you say?' she asked.

Fëanáro glanced up from the pages of Craftsman and sighed. 'He said…'

'Amme,' Telvo said again. 'Amme!' He pulled on her hair.

Nerdanel's face lit up. 'Did you hear him, Fëanáro? He called me "Amme!" He actually called me Amme!"

"Amme! Amme! Aaaaa-ME!' Telvo giggled.

Nerdanel held him close to her and stroked his hair. 'I like this one,' she said.

'Don't you like all our sons?' Fëanáro asked boredly.

She ignored him. 'He's going to stay with me forever,' she said. She petted his hair. 'And if he ever, ever tries to leave me, he's going to die, aren't you?' She kissed her son. 'Yes, you are,' she cooed and planted a kiss on the top of his head and turned to Fëanáro. 'I'll call him the fated one.'

'Come again?'

* * *

_Feel free to hit your mental image of me. Not Galad Estel, because I'll kill you if you touch my sister, but you can hit me all you want. Mentally, at least._


End file.
